


Havana

by InkingAnonymous



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Dancing smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-23 07:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkingAnonymous/pseuds/InkingAnonymous
Summary: When Rafael asks you where you want to go for a vacation, you confess that you want to go to Havana.. . .Rafael narrowed his eyes at you, “I know you. You have some sort of reason for wanting to go. And don’t tell me it’s for the cigars.”





	Havana

**Author's Note:**

> Pardon any and all atrocities committed to the Spanish language! You don't even want to see what my browsing history looks like right about now. Also, I know I switch tense from past to present (I blame the smut) so I know I need to fix that eventually.

When Rafael asked where you wanted to go for a vacation, he was taken aback when you suggested Havana.

“You’re Cuban, but you’ve never been to Cuba,” you stated logically.

Rafael narrowed his eyes at you, “I know you. You have some sort of reason for wanting to go. And don’t tell me it’s for the cigars.”

You sighed in defeat, knowing that Rafael wouldn’t give in until he knew what you were thinking.

“I just think it would be an exciting, romantic place to vacation.”

  
“And what evidence leads you to believe this?” Rafael Barba, ever the lawyer.

  
“I’ve done my research. But this is about you- imagine, being in the place where your ancestors were born. Don’t you want to experience its rich culture? I mean, I’d just go myself, but it makes more sense to at least have a translator. . .”

  
Rafael ignored your attempt at a joke and was silent for a few minutes, so you knew you had at least gotten him to think about it rather than flatly deny your suggestion. You sat quietly, legs tucked under you on the sofa, twirling a strand of hair as you watched his face. And then you saw it- the tiniest twitch of a smile.

  
“Is that a yes?”

  
Rafael turned his green eyes to yours and raised a brow, “If this is how you really want to-“

  
He stopped mid-sentence because he suddenly had a lap full of you. You hugged him tightly around the neck, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, laughing softly into your hair. You nipped his earlobe before whispering a soft, “Thank you.”  
. . . . . . . . . .

  
It was your fourth night, and your housekeeper had recommended a local bar a few miles from your hotel. Rafael was always slightly amused at the way you struck up a conversation with anyone and everyone, and only interceded when your attempts at Spanish left the poor maid confused as to what you were really asking her. You had insisted on attempting to speak Spanish, beginning each conversation with the only phrase you had perfected: “Disculpen, mi español es limitado.”

  
Rafael and the housekeeper laughed as he explained your actual request. After a few exchanged lines of Spanish far beyond your comprehension, Rafael translated her answer.

  
“She said there is a rooftop bar a few blocks from the hotel that hosts local musicians. It’s sort of a dive bar, so most tourists pass by it in favor of the modern place another block down the street.”

  
You hum a little as you get ready that night, choosing a maxi dress that hugs your body like a second skin until it reaches just below your hips where the fabric pleats and loosens. It’s a light yellow which serves to make you look a little more tan than you actually are. You keep your make-up light since you are sun-kissed from your days on the beach. You wear your hair loose, styled in the long waves that seem to tolerate the humidity best. You opt for earthy jewelry, wearing a few of the bright, leather bracelets you bought in town.

  
When you emerge from the bathroom, Rafael glances up from his book, but then double takes as he eyes the swell of your breasts and the accentuated curve of your ass.

  
“Mi amor. . .you look stunning.”

“Gracias. Now go get ready!”

Rafael abandons his book and makes his way to the bathroom. You lay across the bed, reading where he left off. It’s his turn to emerge from the bathroom, and you grin, telling him that he looks beach-y.

He hasn’t shaved since you’ve arrived, so his face is outlined with a dark stubble that is just beginning to flirt with being called a beard. He has on a white, loose, button-down shirt and the top few buttons are undone so you can see just enough of his chest hair to make you bite your lip. He’s wearing khaki-colored linen pants that fit really well across his hips. His hands are shoved in the pockets of the pants and he almost seems nervous as he catches the way you are looking at him.

It’s only been four days, but his skin seems to remember its ancestry because it was already deliciously darkened from the long days you spent on the beach. He had showered, and his hair was styled in a slightly mussed way. He had gotten it cut before you left, so it still had its clean lines around his ears and neck.

“Mmm. Sexy beach Rafi. I could get used to this.”

“I’m not going to deny it. I like this casual-wear thing. I feel...light!"

You laughed and picked up your bag, checking twice to make sure you had everything that you needed, and the two of you head out of the hotel.

When you reached the bar, it was everything you wanted it to be. From the roof, you could just see the darkening blue of the ocean as night began to fall across the town. The lights strung around the roof were mixed between bright large orbs, strings of tiny white Christmas lights, and colorful paper lanterns that emanated a dull glow. The tables were assorted, much like the lanterns, with their colors having dulled long ago from the hot sun.

The band playing tonight was comprised of two Cuban men and a woman, and they were just finishing a number that you would call “colloquial” as you were seated. The drinks were cheap and strong and it didn't take long for both you and Rafael to feel pleasantly intoxicated. You asked him what people around you were saying and he sat beside you, arm around your waist, whispering their conversations in your ear, pausing to steal increasingly deep kisses as the alcohol emboldened him.

But it was more than the alcohol and the music that affected Rafael; it was the atmosphere of Havana. New York was the most exciting city that you had ever lived in, but there was something about this city that made you a feel a little more alive. It may have been the coast, but mostly you thought it was the people. Here, people were living in the moment. Life was slower, sweeter than the constant rush of the city, and one couldn’t help but feel unburdened.

You could see a difference in Rafael’s demeanor after only one day. So, with each passing day, he was more excited to explore Havana, to walk through the streets and look at such a unique mix of crumbling white buildings and newly built structures; to visit the historic landmarks; and to experience the colorful livelihoods of the locals selling their wares.

“Rafael, are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am, and I have you to thank. I never really thought I needed to see Cuba. I understood my history, but being here makes me appreciate it. It makes me feel connected to my abuela.”  
The alcohol was just enough for Rafael to be unashamed of his emotions and you squeezed his hand as you saw his eyes tear at the thought of her.

“Dance with me,” you demand, in a rush to draw Rafael from his past and back into the present with you.

The music is a steady thrum of guitars and the gravelly voice of the singer sounds sexy. You extend your arm slightly to hold Rafael at a distance so he can watch the sway of your hips and shoulders as you close your eyes and move to the rhythm. He pulls you in and turns you so your back is to the front of his body as you grind your hips against his. He slides his hands down your arms to rest on your hips before sliding them to your thighs, then back to your waist. You twist again, to face him, and it's your turn to run your hands over his body, reaching down to squeeze his ass as his hips continue to sway with yours.

He growls a little at your contact and spins you again, laughing as you are once again with your back to him, grinding against his groin. You both continue to sway to the beat as the song slows into something, sultrier, sexier, and it's as if the other bodies fade from view. It's just you and Rafael, lost in the heat, the night, and the music of Havana. He's kissing your neck and you feel like he's leaving a trail of fire as he kisses down to your collarbone. You feel his hands skim the sides of your breasts as he slides them over your body and you moan at the contact, wishing you could dance naked on this rooftop with him.

"Mi amor...te quiero," he breathes into your ear.

You turn again and this time he cups your ass and pulls you into him as you slide your arms around his neck, still swaying, just a bit slower, to the beat.

You pay your check before leaving the bar, and send a silent vibe of thanks to the housekeeper who recommended the bar. You walked, clumsily back to the hotel, laughing, whispering, and kissing.

When you get in the room, Rafael is on you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your arms above your head while crushing you against the hotel door. His lips and tongue are everywhere and nowhere all at once and you giggle, intoxicated by the tequila and his scent. He looks at you, eyes hooded with just, and laughs with you. He released you from his grasp and you danced across the room to open the doors that lead to the small balcony overlooking the ocean. The breeze rushes in and ruffles the light blue curtains, so your room is now filled with the sounds of the ocean, distant laughter, and the faintest hint of music.

You stand in the doorway and slide off the straps of your dress, one at a time. Rafael stands, just at the edge of the bed, his sandals kicked off by the door along with yours, his shirt now with a few more buttons open. He watches your every move, eyes steadily drinking you in.

Your dress falls to the floor in a pool at your feet. Your matching light coral underwear and bra once again emphasize the darkened color of your skin. Rafael takes a step forward and you “tsk” at him.

"Stay."

He obeys and you reach to unhook your bra, your breasts immediately bouncing free from their restraint. You cup them yourself, sliding your hands across the soft flesh and you tweak your nipples, already hard from lust and the cool breeze sliding across your skin.

He inches forward and you narrow your eyes. He puts his hands up as if to say, "Sorry, I'll stop."

You take a step back, just to reaffirm that you are currently the one in charge, and as you step back, standing in the edge of the doorway half naked, music drifts in steadily, a little bit louder as the wind shifts. You move your thumbs to hook in your panties, stop, and smirk at your lover.

"Dance with me again?"

Rafael moves forward as if he were just released from a slingshot. His hands splay across your naked back as he pulls you toward him and immediately matches the sway of his hips to the rhythm. He may be Mr. Propriety in the courtroom, but when he's relaxed, the man can dance.

As Rafael grinds against you, you unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders. Now you're skin to skin and the way Rafael moves his hips is bordering on obscene. His arousal is evident, and you aren't ashamed to turn around and work your ass just enough to make him groan.

"Por favor," Rafael begs into your hair as his smooth fingers cup and squeeze your breasts.

A hum escapes your throat as you tilt your head back and give in to the sensation of his hands on your breasts, working your nipples that are peaked and begging for his lips and tongue.  
Rafael's hand is now making its way to the edge of your panties and your dancing has ceased. The beat of the music floating through the night mirrors the beat of your heart as it anticipates Rafael's next move. He slides beneath the lace and uses his middle finger to just dip between your outer lips- just enough to tease with the slightest feeling of pressure on your clit.

You squirm, again, no longer caring about the dance. You just want him to touch you, to make you come.

Instead, he teases. Rafael uses his fore finger and ring finger to part your lips and slide his middle finger, just barely applying pressure, over your inner lips. Your very wet, very sensitive inner lips.

You moan, low and guttural.

"Touch me."

Rafael, that smug bastard, chuckles.

"I am."

"Harder. Please...por favor," you beg, saucily rolling the r's.

Rafael complies, dipping his middle finger suddenly into your wet pussy. He easily slides in and out, in fervent, little movements, teasing you, still avoiding your hardened clit.

Tired of teasing, you move away from him, and with his hand now left without its warmth, Rafael brings his middle finger up to his mouth and licks off your wetness.

“Mmmm,” he hums around his digit. “Delicioso.”

Your mouth parts as you watch Rafael’s lips close over the tip of his finger. You throw yourself into his arms and kiss him deeply, relishing in the taste of yourself on his tongue. You reach between your bodies to grasp his cock and squeeze. The linen pants leave little to the imagination and you are tired of playing. You want to feel his hard cock in your hand, trace your finger around the tip and smooth over the precum that you know is seeping from its head. You drop to your knees and unbutton the pants and can’t help the startled bark of a laugh that escapes you.

“No underwear? Beach-Barba is absolutely my favorite Barba!”

He laughs until you swallow his cock which promptly turns that laugh into a groan. His cock in your mouth isn’t what you want, though, so you finally slip off your panties as you rise, and stand before Rafael with nothing more than a wicked grin.

“Quiero que me cojas.”

Asking him to fuck you while using his native tongue is all the permission Rafael needs to push you onto the bed.

“On your hands and knees,” he growls in that low voice, synonymous with anger or arousal.

Rafael enters your wet pussy with one thrust. He spreads the cheeks of your ass so he has the perfect angle to watch his dick slide into your wetness. You beg him to move and he complies only after giving your ass a sound smack. As he continues to fuck you, hard, he grabs a fist full of your hair and pulls, not enough to hurt, but enough to force your head up so you’re looking into the full-length mirror that hangs on the wall outside of bathroom.

“Watch, mi amor. Watch me fuck your pussy.”

The erotic commands in combination with the pounding of Rafael’s hips is enough to send you over the edge. You come hard, half growling, half screaming his name as his dick is slickened with an impossible amount of moisture. This doesn’t escape his notice and only causes him to fuck you harder until you’re both slicked with sweat from the humid, Cuban air.

You watch your bodies in the mirror, your breasts bobbing with the force of his thrusts, his eyes glued to yours over your shoulder, and you ask him to touch you, to make you come again.

Rafael slows his pace just enough so that he can sync the rhythm between his thrusts and the movement of his middle finger, that same damn finger from earlier, as it circles your clit in tiny quick movements.

He continues his expert motions until you feel that familiar warmth in your lower abdomen, like your insides are full to bursting, and your orgasm hits you causing your body to shudder and your eyes to roll back so you are no longer watcher your mirror twins fuck. This vision of you in absolute ecstasy is too much for Rafael, and he comes, his heat spreading inside of you, your name tumbling from his lips over and over as he thrusts through his climax.

Once he stills, he lowers his forehead to rest on your back, placing a quick kiss before pulling out and flopping over on the bed. Your arms are shaking and you are relieved to be able to collapse onto your back.

“So,” Rafael breathes, “Your choice of Havana. . . definitely not about the cigars.”

You chuckle as you roll into his arms and place a soft kiss on his lips. He pulls you close to him as you both drift into the sweetest sleep to the sounds of a Havana night; its music that sounds like starlight, and its ocean that ebbs and flows in time with the heartbeat of your universe.


End file.
